A/N: Hello, all you wonderful readers! I'm new to writing fanfiction, but I finally got to it and actually wrote one of those evil plot bunnies. If anyone's interested, I'll continue it-there's so much potential plot :-)

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Summary: Merlin is supposed to be Emrys, the all-powerful warlock, right? Why is he so afraid of being found out? After all, it's not as if they can do anything to him. Watch a more mischievous Merlin come to Camelot, unafraid of showing them exactly how powerful he is. Sort of Crack!fic.

Arthur was having a good day at first.

It started off with breakfast with his father and Morgana. Normally the royal family ate alone in their rooms, but Uther was in a particularly good mood this morning. The meal was filled with more polite chatting and discussion than Arthur usually had with his father all week.

Training with his knights went well, too. Most of them had mastered the day's lesson before the time was over, so they had an impromptu competition. Naturally, Arthur won.

Soaking in the congratulations, the prince didn't notice the clamoring crowd until he and his friends arrived at the town square. Standing on his toes for a better look, Arthur's eyebrows shot up as he saw the reason for all the commotion.

"There's a witch-burning today," he told his companions with an irritated frown. This was clearly the reason for his father's good mood earlier, yet it hadn't been mentioned at breakfast. What did Uther think his son would do, insist on beheading the sorcerer himself?

After all, that had only been once, and he was twelve, dang it! Was it Arthur's fault that the axe broke just as he was bringing it down?

Now, he had a hard time concealing his irritation as the King began speaking.

"Twenty years ago…" Arthur sighed. The same old speech, the same old routine—he found himself mouthing the words along with his father and mimicking the facial expressions.

xx)0(xx

The monotony was broken up quite suddenly when a young voice cried out from the crowd of onlookers.

"And whose fault is that?"

Arthur quickly rewound his memory. Uther had just come to the part of his speech where he pointed out the many magical attacks on Camelot over the years. Who was challenging him over this? He pushed his way through the mass of bodies and blinked rapidly at what he saw.

A boy about Arthur's age was standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the square, looking up at the King with his head cocked to one side. The King himself looked rather taken aback at the interruption, though his son knew it couldn't last long.

The boy continued speaking. "Is it really the sorcerers' faults that they've been attacking? I mean, yes, killing people is wrong and all that, but you kind of started it, after all."

Now the crowd was muttering nervously at this borderline treason. Uther was making vague sputtering sounds, and Arthur just stared.

"Really, was it necessary to hunt down every single magic user in the land just because your wife's killer was magical? I mean, talk about overkill! You didn't even manage to get the one that killed your wife in the first place!"

The insane young man pointed at the chopping block emphatically. "This is ridiculous! Anyone with a single shred of intelligence would realize that! Now, I'm going to take this…thing…and put it to good use somewhere!"

With that, he strode over to the block of wood and gingerly touched the least blood-stained part. Then, in an instant, the block, axe, and strange boy disappeared.

Arthur's good day had just ended.